How are those New Year’s resolutions coming?
This year I’ve been doing pretty well with mine, thanks to the strategy I used in picking them. Having two kids under four, a job, and a congenital inability to temporarily put aside anything I like (see also: my horror at the idea of fasting, temporarily going gluten-free, working through lunch, partaking in Drynuary, or ever using something up before a replacement has been secured), my life often feels rushed. So this year I’m cultivating a sense of ease.
1. Only connect. I started a feminist book club, even though I’m not an expert on gender studies. I’m spending more time with friends, even if it means less time with my kids. I brought in valentines for my kids’ teachers, even though they were store-bought rather than homemade because nobody in our house actually enjoys supervising the use of glue sticks. I’ve been reaching out to friends and acquaintances I haven’t spoken with in a while, without grand guilty apologies for having lost touch. So far, everyone has been pleased to catch up and nobody has accused me of horrific negligence.
2. Make more tea. Listen to the water boiling. Watch color bloom out from the leaves. Breathe in the steam. Cup your hands around the mug. There is enough time for this small break.
3. Drink better wine. With sleep still a scarce resource, I weigh the pleasure of every drink carefully against the tiredness it will bring. So I drink a bit less, and try to enjoy it a bit more. In grad school at the University of Gastronomic Sciences, I took classes on sensory analysis, learning to identify the flavors in wine, beer, olive oil, chocolate, and other foods. There I learned that having a refined palate isn’t innate. In fact, “supertasters”—who do have more taste buds than others—often dislike wine, coffee, and many other foods because they are overwhelmingly bitter. Instead, being able to identify the flavor qualities of a food comes down to memory and attention. The key to appreciating wine, or anything else, is to drink it with attention and to make space for the pleasure it brings. I can do that.
4. Chew your food. This one is embarrassing. I don’t think of myself as putting my own needs last (see above re: skipping meals). Yet I often find myself leaping up from the table mid-bite to tend to a toddler temper tantrum, or bending over to pick up the baby with my mouth still full of water. Chew your food, Kira. There’s enough time for that, at least.